


silence and sound

by OneWhoTurns



Series: fictober 2019 [14]
Category: Oxenfree (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fictober 2019, Insomnia, Literal Sleeping Together, Post-Island, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 12:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21054530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoTurns/pseuds/OneWhoTurns
Summary: #Fictober19 Prompt: 16.Listen. No, really listen.When things are too quiet, there are noises that Alex isn't sure are real. It's stopped her from sleeping for too long.





	silence and sound

The first night was hell. She couldn’t say anything about it. Sleep was elusive at best, but more like impossible. Tossing and turning all night, every few minutes imagining a hum or a click or the steady static of dead tape. Alex tried listening to music and that worked for a bit, helped clear her mind, but actual _ sleep _ wasn’t so easy. Being alone in silence tended to welcome thoughts - sights, sounds, memories - that didn’t exist. Or at least, not here. Not anymore. Or maybe never… Time feels off.

Living half-zombified is passable on a Sunday, but she’s nearing 61 hours without sleep. 61 hours to everyone else, anyway, maybe longer. She’s never entirely sure how long they were on the island. Or if they’ve left at all. A day of zoning out on the couch, eyes glazed over and breath shallow, didn’t go unnoticed. Her mother felt her forehead concernedly, prepared to keep her out of school come Monday, and Alex couldn’t do more than shrug an excuse. Her lack of sleep was blamed on some kind of illness picked up at the ‘sleepover’ she’d attended Friday night.

_ Illness. _ That was one way of putting it.

Alex had caught Jonas’s eyes while her mother worried, and he had that guarded look about him that he’d had on the island. That forcibly calm exterior, with whatever panic might be happening pushed down deep. The heavy smudges under his eyes are just as informative as his distant hollow gaze to tell her that he’s been struggling, too. They haven’t talked about it. Alex isn’t sure she wants to, either.

She kept herself upright through dinner, but by the time 8 o’clock has come and passed and she can reasonably call it a night, Alex drags herself up to her bedroom.

She tries. She really tries.

Her room is dark, her pjs are comfortable, but she just can’t sleep. A moment of drifting and then she jerks awake again, imagining noises that don’t exist. Radio chimes, empty recordings, the click and whirr of tape— none of it ever leaves. Any silence and it comes back to haunt her.

She isn’t— Alex doesn’t cry because she’s sad (though God, she probably should be). She’s not sure she’s really feeling much of _anything_, just unadulterated frustration. Helplessness and hopelessness that she _ just can’t do it_, and she _ needs _ to - she’s exhausted, she feels her whole body trembling, the pulse of blood in her eyelids - she _ has _ to sleep, _ please god _ let her sleep—

Her eyes sting and burn, like all her tears have been sucked up to power the ever-running engine that is _ Alex _ and whatever’s welling up in them has been painstakingly wrung out of whatever’s left of her. Her mouth is dry but her nose is stuffy and she just can’t _ breathe_, it’s utterly miserable, and _ let it end please let it end_, she just needs _ rest _ for once in her life.

Alex rolls over onto her side, but that doesn’t help. She still has to pant through her mouth to get any air. Sitting up helps, but she doesn’t have the energy for it, and as soon as she props herself against the headboard and lets her eyes drift shut she’s hearing sounds again, choking on a frustrated noise that’s hardly human.

Too much. It’s all too much, and there’s not enough of her left.

…Fuck it, she can’t exactly try anything else. If there’s a chance of it working, she’ll try it. And she’d rather start with him than with her mother. At least he knows.

Alex is wrapped in a light blanket, carrying a pillow in one hand, stepping as quietly as possible as she heads up to the attic.

Michael’s door is closed, but there’s light coming from underneath. Makes sense. No teen in their right mind would be asleep before 10pm let alone 9. Then again, were either of them in their right mind at the moment? Probably not.

She doesn’t knock. She probably should. Instead, she just enters, closes the door behind her, and goes immediately to the foot of the bed, setting down her pillow and curling up on the floor.

“…Alex?” It’s the first time he’s really addressed her since they got off the ferry. Neither of them have been particularly chatty. A smattering of affirmative or negative responses for questions from their parents, rarely full words. She thinks she heard Jonas mumble something to his dad earlier in the day, but she might have just imagined it.

Alex doesn’t respond. This is how she used to fight off whatever was keeping her from sleep. Crash in Michael’s room, listen to him doing whatever it was he did before bed. His mouse clicking at his computer, or a pencil scratching away at homework. Noises of steady, reassuring life. Any unexplained sounds were given context with someone else in the room.

She lets out a breath, and her eyes are still burning, thankful to be closed once more.

There’s a pause, and then a soft creak in the mattress as Jonas lays back down. He doesn’t ask again. There’s just the gentle noises of shifting fabric, pages flipping, soft breath.

Light filters through her eyelids and it’s red like the light pouring from his mouth when they spoke through him.

Alex doesn’t have the energy to fear it, just buries her head in folded arms and focuses on the sound. He’s okay. They’re all okay. No hum of radio frequencies, no click, no whirr, no static. Sounds of life, not ghosts.

For the first time in 62 hours, Alex sleeps.

-

Jonas nudges her awake nearly nine hours later.

She doesn’t have the energy to groan, just rolls onto her back and looks up at him from heavily lidded eyes.

“Your mom’s prob’ly gonna check on you in a sec.” His voice sounds out of practice; hoarse and rocky and too deep. Still half-asleep.

Alex just stares for a second, eyelids gradually falling closed as her brain slowly processes his words. He nudges her again with his foot, and she wonders why she should care about what he’s saying.

Oh right.

They just met.

Probably weird to be sleeping on his floor like she would with Michael.

She cracks an eye open as she rubs at the other, sniffing, scrubbing at her face.

Jonas just watches her for a second, shifts into an absentminded stretch until some joint makes a little cracking noise, and then shrugs. “Whatever,” he mumbles, heading for his dresser; “Suit yourself.”

Alex stumbles down to her room while he’s getting ready for school. She lays awake with her eyes closed until her mom comes to check.

-

They both end up staying home from class. Alex isn’t sure what the official reason is - her mom seems to think they both have mono or something. She blames the supposed sleepover, and Alex thinks she might have called Ren’s parents to warn them, but Alex doesn’t have the energy to worry over their story falling through. Either way, since no one’s been throwing up, they’re left to take care of each other while she and Jonas’s dad have work.

Alex still feels exhausted. She tries to sleep, and kind of does. Except then she’s not sure, because things start to sound weird and distorted and-

“Alex.”

Her eyes drag open, but her sight is blurry, blinking haze away until she recognizes Jonas sitting on the edge of her bed, a hand on her arm. That registers a solid second before the rest of him, and her gaze drifts downward, perplexed. “…Why…” Facts click together as her eyes finally reach the material wrapped around his hips. Towel. Okay. That explains the whole toplessness part. Her brow is furrowed as she looks back to his face again, to hair rumpled from a haphazard drying.

“You were, uh…” Jonas blinks for a second, and Alex watches with a distant detached interest as his skin starts to go pink as he lets go of her arm. “I was in the— getting out of the shower- you, uh— There were noises,” he finally manages.

Her eyes slide closed again, letting out a throaty hum of confirmation. Sounds right. Noises. She rolls over under her covers, curling until her knees bump against him. He’s comfortingly solid and warm through the sheets, and she bundles up even more until she’s curled in a C-shape around him. Her breathing starts to even out, slowing down, until-

“Um.”

“…Hm?”

A hand pushes at her shoulder and she rolls back, looking up at him again through one half-open eye. He watches her for a second, brow furrowed, before his lips twitch a bit. “I kinda need to get dressed.”

“Hmmmmm.” The groan is disappointed, and a little irritated, almost a pout as she curls toward him again.

There’s a pause while he lets her settle around him. He sounds mildly amused under the weariness. “I’d carry you upstairs, but I’d probably drop you.”

“Hm?” All of her speech is inarticulate humming.

A hand combs through her hair, scratching at her scalp idly like he’s petting a dog. Alex might feel annoyed about that if it didn’t feel nice. “I mean, I’m assuming you wanna nap. And that you’d be better off in-” there’s a fraction of a second of hesitation, “-my room.” He was gonna say Mike. She knows he was, but she doesn’t have the energy to think about it.

“Mm.” He has a point. Still, she doesn’t move. The whole petting thing actually feels pretty good. Relaxing.

“Alex.” He stops her from falling asleep again. Her eyes pull open slowly only to shoot an irritated look at him. Jonas’s lips twitch into a crooked smile. “Look, this is a limited time offer, I’m the one selflessly offering my bed right now.”

Alex shrugs. “You could stay here,” she mumbles, turning to nuzzle her head into the mattress, shifting against his hand like some kind of cat on a scratching post.

“I’m literally in a towel,” he observes, drily.

“So?” Her eyes are well and truly closed again, maneuvering to get his hand in just the right spot as she lets out a little sigh before her breath settles to a slow, even pace once more.

Jonas’s hand stills. There’s a second of silence, then he pulls away, standing up.

“Jonas,” Alex whines, reaching out for him sleepily, eyes still closed, “C’mon, come back.”

With a soft huff of laughter, she hears the floor of the hall creak slightly. His voice is raised, jarringly awake. “I’m gonna change. Bed’s free for like ten minutes, then you’re on your own.”

She hears him pad back toward the bathroom, then the recognizable sound of the door closing, the vent inside still humming, clearing out steam from his shower earlier. Nice. Nice steamy shower, nice hot water, not too scalding, just-

Alex’s eyes open as she frowns.

Yeah, maybe don’t think about the new stepbrother showering. Maybe not that.

At least it’s enough to push her out of bed with a low groan. Grudgingly, she has to admit that he’s right. She’ll sleep better in Mike’s room, she always has. There were a few months after his death that she slept there every night. She’d considered just moving into that room, but… it felt wrong. So she’d stayed in hers, and then a year passed, and then Jonas was moving in. Still feels a little weird.

When she heads up to the attic again, she doesn’t bother bringing her blanket and pillow. He’d offered the bed, so she’s gonna take it. Alex slips between the sheets, instantly overwhelmed by the smell of boy. Whatever deodorant he uses he uses too much of it, but it’s not bad. Better than the alternative, she supposes. It’s kinda nice, actually, something strong enough to distract her from whatever her sleep-deprived senses want to throw at her.

She’s finally relaxed into the bed again, toes peeking out the edge of the covers, when Jonas wanders back upstairs once more. Alex takes in a breath that’s swimming with whatever dude-smell scents are packed into that aerosol spray, lets out a short sigh and murmurs, “Hasn’t been ten minutes.”

Jonas snorts lightly. “Well, you weren’t in your room, so.” There’s the soft _ shp _ sound of fabric thrown onto fabric. “Also; don’t complain.” A finger flicks at her exposed foot and Alex whines and curls up safe under the covers. “Just go to sleep.”

He settles down at the desk, and Alex listens to the fan whirring to life in his computer, his long breath out as the laptop boots up.

She falls asleep to clicks and sighs and the steady thump of his heel swinging against the chair leg.

-

It becomes habit. At least for a few days.

Around 9pm or a little later Alex climbs up to the attic and settles herself on the floor and listens to Jonas do whatever he’s up to until she falls asleep. One night, he’s working at his desk and she steals the bed. She’s not entirely sure where he slept that night, ‘cause he’s always the one to wake her.

Whatever they’re doing, they must know it’s Wrong in some way, because it’s always a secret. She goes to him once their parents have stopped checking in on them at night, he gets her up and back to her room before they come to check in the morning. So they must know something’s off about it.

The weekend comes, and there’s an unspoken agreement that neither of them really wants to leave the house. They’re still… _ recovering _ might be the right word. The only people Alex might feel comfortable hanging out with are Ren, maybe Nona… and _ maybe _ Clarissa. Maybe. Anyone else and she’s not sure she could take faking it.

Friday night, it’s been one week since they got on the ferry.

They don’t talk about it. Instead they sprawl over the sectional in the living room, staring at the TV and watching reality show marathons, idly snacking on popcorn and m&ms, time ticking away. At some point Alex falls asleep, the murmur of television chatter in the background.

She jerks awake however many hours later, heart pounding. The room is dark and silent, but she feels watched. Jonas must have already gone up to bed, because she’s alone. Logically she knows the red lights blinking in the darkness are just idle power on the TV, the cable box, the stereo - but they still raise goosebumps on her skin. Alex fumbles for her phone, flicking on the flashlight long enough to get a lamp on.

The light helps. At least, it helps with the whole _ imagining ghosts _ part. But the quiet is too quiet, and she can sense the click and whirr and static creeping in, can imagine the hum and steady thinning of the pitch as the radio frequency shifts. She rolls her shoulders back, shaking out her limbs, tuts her tongue against her teeth to break the silence as she walks back up to her room.

She tries to settle into bed. Really tries. Hums a little to herself, but it’s no good. The dark, the quiet; it’s too full of things that don’t exist.

So up she goes to the attic.

For the first time, his light is off. It’s past 3am. Alex hesitates for a moment, then knocks softly.

No answer. (Which makes sense.)

After a brief moment of consideration, a second waiting on the landing, Alex feels that creeping dread echoing up the stairs and makes the executive decision to just go in. Even then, she pauses in the doorway. “…Jonas?”

Again, no answer. But this time she’s paranoid. She flicks her phone to flashlight once more, just to make sure he’s there. He is. And shifting a little, a low groan as he turns away from the light.

“Jonas,” she repeats, softly.

He stretches out for a second, waves a hand weakly. “‘s all good,” he mumbles. Which feels like the okay for her to crash. Which— well, she probably would have done it anyway, but it’s better to get the go-ahead.

She closes the door behind her, then makes her way to her usual spot and curls up on the floor. Tries to fall asleep.

…It’s too quiet.

Without his usual nighttime activity, it’s dead silent. He doesn’t snore like Michael did. (A weird thing to miss, but it was comforting in its way.)

She thinks she can see red lights in the dark. The distant sound - little blips - that may or may not exist, reaches her ears. Static creeps at the edges of her imagination, and Alex once more turns on her light, setting it to shine onto the ceiling. Her breath is heavy, heart racing.

“…Go to sleep,” is murmured from the bed.

“Can’t,” Alex whispers.

Jonas sighs. There’s a moment of quiet, then a shifting on the mattress. When he speaks again, it’s a little clearer. “Why not.” It’s a question, but his tone is flat. Not _ exactly _ annoyed, but close.

“Hearing things.”

Another pause. “Like what.” Again, a flat question, but this time there’s an edge of wariness to it.

“Stupid shit,” she shakes her head, staring at the ceiling. “Island stuff. Tapes and radios.”

He sighs a little, but it’s not like he’s angry. More like resigned. “…So that’s why… the sleep thing?”

“Mmhmm.”

The pauses are less empty now, knowing he’s awake. “So why isn’t it working now?” She can tell he’s being patient with her, the way his words have slipped back to questions, tone softer, almost coaxing.

“Too quiet,” Alex breathes. “I think— the sounds, I think. Helped.” 

She’s not quite speaking in full sentences. It’s closer, though, so that’s… probably good. Better than freezing up and only getting a word or two out.

“I’m not gonna get up just to make noise for you.” There’s a wryly humorous edge to his voice, even with that touch of apology.

“I know.” She lets out a breath. It’s fine. She’ll be fine.

He sighs, goes quiet.

Too quiet. “Jonas.”

He groans. “Christ Alex, just come here.”

What? “…What?”

“C’mere.” When she makes no move, he sighs again. Half of the covers are folded back and he sleepily slaps at the mattress. “Bed.”

She’s a little awkward as she rises, fumbling with her phone.

“If you shine that fucking light in my eyes, I swear to god-” he mumbles, tiredly.

Alex lets out a weak laugh at that, and as soon as she’s untangled from her own blanket and at his bedside she turns the thing off, setting it on his nightstand before sliding into bed. He flings an arm back to put the covers back over her, letting his arm stay draped across her, hand resting but not curled around the side of her waist.

She hasn’t actually shared a bed with a guy before. Well, she’s been sleeping bag to sleeping bag with Ren, but not actually in the same bed. Not that she can remember. Not when it counted. Definitely not with a shirtless guy who’s naked shoulder was inches from her face.

Yeah. Okay, yes, this is why this is Wrong. This is why they keep this a secret.

Jonas breathes out. When Alex fidgets, his hand fumbles until he gets a loose hold on her forearm, and pulls it around him. “Listen.”

Alex hesitates. His bare skin is putting off heat like a furnace.

There’s a second, and then he sighs. He tugs her closer, pointedly arching his back toward her, until her cheek brushes against his spine. “No, really listen.” His deep breath in is exaggerated, and the long exhale.

Oh. _ Oh. _

It helps that he’s not looking at her. And that she’s really fucking tired. It takes a moment, but finally Alex tightens her arm around him, turning to press her ear to his back.

It’s a little odd, not gonna lie. But his breath is even, and the steady thud of his heartbeat is… nice. She’s not sure if he’s _ trying _ to pace his breathing, but she finds herself matching his and it definitely serves to calm her down.

It works, weirdly enough, listening to him, instead of the silence.

No static, no whine of the radio tuning: just pulse, and breath. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if it's got a rather abrupt ending - this fic got waaay longer than I expected, just to get to that prompt bit. Not that I'm mad about it, I'm actually pretty happy with the gradual development. But what about you? Thoughts?


End file.
